Another Constellation
by mew-tsubaki
Summary: Maydayverse, oneshot. Despite the rough times, a new star shines in their lives. *Pre-Epilogue, canon-compliant; done for HP Ship Weeks*


**Another Constellation**

A HariPo oneshot

by mew-tsubaki

Note: The _Harry Potter_ characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. I have an elaborate head-canon, so it's fun to flesh out the small bits… More for HP Ship Weeks! :O Read, review, and enjoy!

- ^-^3

**September 1****st****, 2005**

They are fighting again.

It is the scream and almost-scratching kind of fight. It echoes in the empty halls of Malfoy Manor, but there are no more house-elves left to stumble over or step on. Not even any left to throw or to abuse. No, it was one of many conditions of a lessened sentence that the Malfoy family lose their servants.

Draco knows not what his parents spit fire about this morning. Sometimes it's the big things—why Lucius had to drag Draco into the Death Eaters to begin with, why Narcissa made Snape take that Unbreakable Vow that could've gotten both Narcissa and Draco killed. Sometimes it's the small things—why they can't move out of this house, why they can't split up, why Lucius lets his eyes wander to Daphne Greengrass.

Astoria looks across the library to her husband. They are hiding out here again because the library's walls are almost soundproof.

But when Narcissa and Lucius fight, it's almost as if they're in the same room, everyone together.

"I blame my sister," Astoria says lightly, to create noise to distract herself and Draco. She rubs her large tummy without thinking.

"No, don't. My father deserves blame for every single thing in his life," Draco mutters. "Besides, I knew Daphne. We were classmates. I believe her when she says she loves my father. I just don't know why she would."

Astoria smiles. It is strained, but it is a smile. "You're a little like your mother in that way, unable to give your father the benefit of the doubt."

He scoffs. "I spent my childhood doing that. I've spent my adult life not doing that to make up for my youth." He stands and strolls slowly over to his wife. He touches her abdomen, too. "What kind of a life are we bringing a little one into?"

"An interesting one," Astoria replies. Because they might be married, but they don't make good lovers. And yet she can't help consoling him because, somehow, their friendship means the world to her, and she knows it's the same for him, too.

- ^-^3

**September 2****nd****, 2005**

They are quiet today.

Astoria and Draco don't really know what to talk about when his parents aren't fighting. Daphne's at work—"Portkeys—the best job to lose yourself in," she tells her sister and brother-in-law. Narcissa is out lunching with Blaise's and Pansy's mothers. Lucius left either to seek enlightenment or to drown his sorrows.

It's just Astoria, Draco, and an unborn child in an empty house devoid of love.

But the house isn't devoid of affection. No, not really. Astoria gets some pains, and Draco is there by her side to help her up and down stairs and in and out of chairs. Draco absentmindedly scratches the inside of his left elbow, and Astoria draws his arms apart so that he's not thinking of his past mistakes.

Sometimes it's not enough. Sometimes Astoria is tormented by the family she married into. It's not as though reputation is _everything_ in these modern times. But it's still a fright to think that insanity is hereditary. What were Herrick and Francis Greengrass _thinking_, marrying their younger daughter off to the Malfoy heir?

Sometimes it's just not _enough_. Sometimes Draco loses himself in his daydreams which are more like midday night terrors. He remembers the horrors he saw and the horrors he was expected to do. He remembers Dumbledore telling him that it wasn't too late, that he hadn't done anything evil yet…but that had been _before_ the headmaster's death. After? That was a whole other matter. And sometimes Draco's scars, where the tattoo has been removed, itch as though _he_ is still in there, in ink and invading Draco's brain and whispering to him that Draco can do nothing unless he is told by _him_… It is a miracle Draco hasn't snapped yet. He's one vivid daydream away from being sent to live in St. Mungo's, he thinks.

But they are married, and though they don't make good lovers, they can't help consoling each other because, somehow, their friendship means the world to them, and one knows it's the same for the other, too. So they will get through this hellish existence called a life.

- ^-^3

**September 3****rd****, 2005**

They are speechless.

Why shouldn't they be? They created this one, this little thing, this creature like a cherub resting in Astoria's sweaty arms.

He is quiet and adorable and perfect—he is every positive adjective all at once.

Draco touches the little guy's pudgy hand. How can something be so tiny?

Astoria strokes the little guy's few wisps of white-blond hair. How can something so new be so soft?

Their son gives Draco's finger a squeeze, which surprises the new father. "He has Greengrass strength," he tells his wife.

Their son tries to open his eyes, but fails. That's fine. He's a newborn, anyway. Astoria's hazel hair brushes his cheek as she closes her hazel eyes. "He has Malfoy blond hair—I bet he'll have Malfoy gray eyes, too," she tells her husband.

So much is conveyed in so little. Trying to find the good of the other's family line in the new babe—it's like a contest. "If He Has This Much Greengrass/Malfoy In Him, Then He Will Be Fine, He Will Make It, He Will Not Be Hated By The World." The contest is unspoken, but it's playing in the minds of both parents.

But the fun must come to an end. Lines must be drawn.

"What do we name him?" they blurt out at the same time.

Astoria knows what must happen.

Draco knows what must happen.

It's family tradition.

Traditions die hard.

Astoria nods. "It's all right." She passes their son to him.

Draco frowns. "I…" He takes their son from her.

Astoria remains in her bed, catching her breath while the midwife leaves the room to give the new family a moment. Astoria's eyes follow Draco while he slowly paces the room.

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy," he announces.

"Sounds more like a Black name than a Malfoy one," she remarks.

Draco doesn't dare breathe what's on his mind. But his eyes say it all when he looks back at Astoria: _Maybe if he's named like a Black, then he'll be less inclined to be so Malfoy_.

And Astoria assures him with a strengthening smile: _And if that's not enough, then I'll raise him like a Greengrass_.

Either way, there's a new constellation in the family sky. And where passionate or arranged love might've tripped them up before, friendship and family will now save them. Because they might be married, but they don't make good lovers. And yet they can't help consoling each other because, somehow, their friendship means the world to them, and one knows it's the same for the other, too. So they will get through this hellish existence called a life. And they will do it, if not for them, then for the sake of their child.

- ^-^3

**:] I loved this. Short and to the point. ;D I see post-war Draco as closer to Narcissa in the end, with both of them embracing the good parts of the Black family. And while I like Drastoria, I actually prefer them in a strong, unbreakable friendship that's more profound than any romantic love—but I DON'T KNOW WHY. D8 *frustrated* As for Lucius/Daphne…that's an M&MWP (see my profile for details; same with "Maydayverse"—that just means it's part of my head-canon, but see the details on my profile); couldn't help it, sorry. They're in my head-canon. XD *happy sigh* Thanks to ****autumn midnights****, too, my FFN lil' sis, for rec'ing this on her tumblr since I'm too lazy to get a tumblr. *huggles* -w-**

**Thanks for reading, and please do review! Check out my other fics, too, if you liked this.**

**-mew-tsubaki :D**


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